Duologue
by hardly loquacious
Summary: Duologue. Noun. A conversation between two persons; dialogue. Two women meet on a plane across the country, and discover some unexpected common ground.


A/N: And it's yet another gift!fic (horribly belated, I know). For naidheachd, who requested Mentalist/Elementary crossover fic: any characters, any scenario. I came up with this, mostly because it solved the first obvious major logistical difficulty that came to mind, namely that New York and California are located on opposite sides of the continent.

Duologue

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_Duologue_

_noun_

_1.__ a conversation between two persons; __dialogue._

_2. a __dramatic__ performance or piece in the __form__ of a dialogue __limited__to__two__speakers._

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As she found her seat, the first thing Joan noticed was that the woman already in the seat next to her appeared to be somehow simultaneously delicate and formidable. The dichotomy caught her attention for a second, until it was surpassed by the second notable thing.

The other woman was at least half-terrified to fly, at least if her barely twitching knee was anything to go by.

She was hiding the fear well, but it was lurking just below the surface

Joan dropped into the seat next to her, hoping to distract the other woman with a friendly smile.

The stranger next to her returned it, though her smile was slightly strained.

Joan let her eyes flicker over the other woman again. Casually dressed, sensible shoes, fabulous jacket, leather shoulder bag the perfect size for files.

And eyes that were somehow sad.

Joan wasn't sure why, but she suddenly had the strangest sense that the woman next to her would be worth knowing. And her reason for starting a conversation with her seatmate became about more than just friendly distraction.

Joan's eyes flicked down to the boot that was now tapping lightly against the bag. "Business trip?" she asked.

The stranger's eyes flicked from the window to hers in mild surprise. "Actually, no," she said. "I was visiting family in New York for a few days. You?"

"I'm actually heading to California, not from," Joan told her. "My partner has actually deigned to give me a long weekend off for a friend's wedding."

To Joan's surprise, the woman next to her cocked her head to the side, considering. "You don't look like a lawyer," she said after a moment. "So, I'm going to go with consulting firm."

Joan let her laugh bubble out of her easily. "Something like that," she murmured, not really in the mood to go into specifics. "A conclusion which makes me want to guess law enforcement." Joan didn't really need the woman to confirm her guess, as soon as she'd said it, she'd known it was true. Part of her was irritated with herself for not noticing it sooner. Sherlock would have scoffed at her delay, which was why she wouldn't be telling him about this.

The other woman's lips curved up into a smile. "Guilty as charged," she said. "Though people really don't always guess that." She held out a hand. "Teresa Lisbon, CBI."

Joan took the offered hand. "Joan Watson. You're the first agent from the California Bureau of Investigation that I've met. Though I guess that's not surprising given the geography."

Lisbon's eyebrow's shot to her hairline. "You've actually heard of us?"

Joan laughed again. "That rare, is it?"

"In our own state," Lisbon grumbled. Then her eyes narrowed. "Just what kind of consulting do you do exactly, Miss Watson?"

"Joan, please," she corrected softly, before taking a breath. "I'm a consulting detective, actually. I observe, help the police solve crimes, or private citizens other problems."

She watched the shock register in the woman's face.

"Not what you were expecting?" she asked curiously.

Lisbon shook her head slightly, recollecting herself. "No," she admitted. "Although, it's not that, I just... I thought I might be free from it for a few days at least."

Joan winced internally and tried not to feel hurt. "Well, I'm sorry to ruin the last few hours of your vacation."

She saw the remorse ripple through the eyes of the woman next to her; Joan wondered idly how Teresa Lisbon had managed to face the horrors she must have over the years as a cop with eyes like that. Eyes that took responsibility for everyone, like Captain Gregson's, she realized suddenly. She'd have to ask him about that someday.

Lisbon was speaking. "Oh, no," she said quickly. "That's not what I meant... I just, my partner, well, he's a consultant too, and he likes to... notice things."

Jane forced herself to relax. Living your life under a microscope, it was something she could relate to. "I know what you mean," she said. "My partner, he's the same way, always noticing the littlest thing. I'm really just learning in comparison really. He's actually kind of amazing."

Lisbon's smile turned friendly again. "Well, he must think you're pretty good too, if he's working with you."

Joan was pleased with the compliment, particularly since she'd been afraid that what had seemed like such a promising conversation was heading off0track. "Your partner must have decided the same," she pointed out.

Lisbon smirked. "Given that I'm his boss, he didn't really have much choice."

Well, that was a surprise. Joan reconsidered the woman next to her. The easy confidence, the strong desire to hide any and all weakness (even a harmless fear of flying, which Joan was happy to note seemed to have faded somewhat), the pain hidden beneath her eyes. This was a woman comfortable with authority, and one who'd been wielding it for a while. And Joan suddenly knew, that no matter what she'd figured out in her initial observation, and no matter what Sherlock would have said, Teresa Lisbon was a complicated woman. Sure broad inferences could be made on sight, and patterns could be drawn, but they weren't everything.

That was probably why Sherlock so often fell down on the human aspect of things.

Amused as she was by her own mental digression, Joan set it aside and turned back to the conversation. "Please tell me you remind him of that fact."

"When necessary," Lisbon admitted easily. "Not that Jane really listens."

Jane... and Joan had been so sure her partner would be a man. She sighed internally. So much for her burgeoning deductive skills. Then she paused. Because the name sounded familiar somehow. Jane... She searched for the memory, mentally slogging through the case studies Sherlock had made her familiarize herself with. Then it hit her. _Patrick Jane_. His family killed by California's worst and most elusive serial killer. Jane had sworn revenge. Not in so many words, not in the official reports at least, but reading between the lines... Joan's breath caught in her throat. She'd read a fair number of the reports after all, certainly all of the news clippings.

Her eyes flicked to Lisbon's.

The woman stared back in a kind of sad understanding. "You know who he is," she said softly. "I wondered if you would."

Joan shook her head gently. "I know who _both_ of you are."

Lisbon shrugged awkwardly, obviously trying to dismiss the correction.

The movement told Joan a lot of what she needed to know about Teresa Lisbon (though not all that she _wanted_ to know). The woman hadn't done what she had for herself. She was one of the copss who truly believed in serve and protect. _She_ wasn't what was important; the job was.

And she'd done her job really well four months ago, she and her partner.

And now the world was just a little bit brighter.

Joan had been searching for a little bit of that feeling all her life, first in medicine then as a sober companion. She finally thought that now, with her current job, she was getting a little bit closer.

"I've got to say," she said, deliberately lightening her tone. "I think I caught him on the news once."

Lisbon looked up, sudden amusement in her eyes. "Yeah?"

Joan tried to hide her smile, fairly sure the woman knew where she was going. "Mmhm. You know what I thought?"

"What's that?" Lisbon asked curiously.

"I thought he looked like he could use a good smack upside the head," Joan said honestly. It was slightly nicer than saying the man looked like he had an ego the size of the state he came from, after all.

Lisbon chuckled. "Sometimes," she admitted. "But like I said..."

"You get used to it," Joan said softly.

Something in her tone made Lisbon look up in surprise. "Yeah?"

Joan nodded, suddenly realizing why she'd been so instinctively drawn to this woman, even if she still wasn't sure what it was exactly that had caused her subconscious mind to make the connection. She swallowed. "I don't suppose you have time to talk?"

Lisbon's smile was slow this time. She made a show of glancing at her watch, then out the window next to her. "You're in luck," she said eventually. "I happen to have, oh, about seven hours free."

Joan laughed, settling into her seat. "Then I'll start at the beginning," she said. "We met almost two years ago..."

And with that she started to tell the story she'd needed to tell someone for the better part of two years.

It had just taken her this long to find someone who might understand.

xxx

The end


End file.
